Virtues
by Bundibird
Summary: Magnificent, Gentle, Just, Valiant. They were not simply virtues - they described who they were...described the very fibre of their being. A FourShot relating how the Pevensie children reacted when they found themselves in Spare Oom once again. :COMPLETE:
1. Magnificent

Disclaimer: If my writing is anything good enough to be confused with the Master who is C S Lewis, I am very proud indeed

**Disclaimer****: If my writing is anything good enough to be confused with the Master who is C S Lewis, I am very proud indeed.**

**AN****: I have so many half done Narnia fics on my computer that I am astounded. And I have a full length, multi-chaptered plot bunny attempting to eat my brain too, but given my success regarding frequent updates in my three main unfinished stories… I think I'll stick to short stories for now.**

**Enjoy.**

**OoO**

**Virtues**

**-**

**Magnificent**

**OoO**

_Courage is not one of the virtues. Courage is every one of the virtues at its testing point._

_C. S. Lewis_

OoO

Peter wondered if this was perhaps some sort of test that Aslan had set him. A test of his resolve; his faith; his strength.

He was trying so hard – so _hard_ – to live up to his title.

Or rather…the title that had once been his in a world far removed from this drab scale of dull grey and rusty brown.

Edmund had once told him, "Magnificence is needed just as much here as in Narnia," but was it? Every time he tried to be magnificent he was painfully shot down.

He would try to offer his seat to a girl and would get told he is old fashioned, asked whether he doesn't think she can manage standing on her own two feet, told to stop being so sexist.

He would try to stand up for someone weaker than himself and would get yelled at from all fronts to mind his own business.

He just felt so helpless – so worthless. He tried to keep up a calm façade; a charade that all was well, and all but those closest to him were convinced. His siblings could see right through all his attempts, but could not see how to help him. They were going through similar feelings of loss and confusion, and could only hope to be there for each other when they were needed.

His mother had noticed too – she had noticed a difference in all four of her children – and though she really had no idea what the problem was, she did come fairly close one night. Peter heard her talking to one of her friends on the telephone; heard her mention that it was as though Peter was a King without his Kingdom.

She truly had no idea just how true that statement was.

It wasn't simply as though he had lost a _part_ of himself… it was as though he had lost his _entire_ self. His whole being.

What was he to do when he woke in the early hours of dawn if not train with Oreius and Edmund? What was he to do when war threatened his land, his safety, his subjects, his _siblings_ if not ride out and meet the villains head on, sword and shield in hand and a mighty battle cry leaving his lips? What was he to do in his spare time if not mingle with and strive for better relations with everyone from his subjects to the Crown Prince of Calormen?

He didn't know.

Everything in England seemed pointless. Why go to school? He had already learnt more than the supposed 'Education Department' even offered, and he had learnt it from the best teachers there were. School could not hope to compete with that.

Every day, he would sit straight backed and to attention in his classes and pretend to pay attention, answering any questions directed his way with a mindless ease.

Why even get up in the mornings? He could achieve just as much by staying in bed all day as he could by getting up each morning and following the brainless patterns of every day life in England: nothing.

Why bother trying to be Magnificent at all?

_Because the King over all Kings of your __home__ wants you to be._

The thought came to him one morning as he stood in front of the mirror, looking in vain for the man who's face used to be full and tanned and bearded and smiling, and was now once again scrawny and pale and naked and sullen.

It was then that he realised that it all might be a test. A test of his resolve; his faith; his strength.

And as Peter realised that, he realised that his resolve was rivalled only by Edmund; his faith rivalled only by Lucy; his strength as a full grown man rivalled only by the largest of centaurs and minotaurs.

And with that realisation came a new determination.

This _was_ a test he was being set.

And by Aslan, he would pass it with flying colours.

OoO

**AN****: There, what'cha think? This is chapter one in what will be a FourShot.**

**Next up: Queen Susan the Gentle.**

**Review! Love Bundi**


	2. Gentle

**WARNING!**** The Last Battle spoilers ensue! DO NOT READ if you have not read The Last Battle.**

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. **

**AN****: Here is Susan's chapter. A very many thank yous to all of you who reviewed! I really, really appreciate it. :) There were a few who put the story on their alerts list too, but didn't review. I'm glad you want to see where this goes, but I would very muchly love to receive your comments too!**

**Also: the quote "Magnificence is needed just as much here as in Narnia" from Peter's chapter is from **_**Unserious Sirius**_**'s story **_**Magnificent**_**. Sorry, I forgot to put that in the last one. ; Go read it! It's good. :) And good job all of you who picked it up! :)**

**Also, whenever I say 'Her' with a capital letter in the middle of a sentence, I am referring to Narnia.**

**WARNING # 2!**** Just in case you missed the first one – Spoilers for The Last Battle below!**

**Thanks again, enjoy.**

**OoO**

**Virtues**

**-**

**Gentle**

**OoO**

Gentle they had called her. Queen Susan the Gentle of the Radiant Southern Sun.

And in Narnia, she had lived up to her title wonderfully.

For all that their subjects had loved her siblings for their loyalty to Narnia; their brave and valiant natures; their unrivalled love for their country; and their legendary prowess in protecting all they held dear, they had loved Susan for her attentive ear; her quiet understanding; her soft guidance; and her gentle reassurance.

Queen Susan had been as highly respected by all of Narnia and Her surrounding countries as her Magnificent, Just and Valiant counterparts.

But that had been in another world – a far more bright and beautiful and _happy_ country than the Spare Oom in which she now found herself once again.

Here, in England, the term 'Gentle' was understood differently.

Here, 'gentle' meant 'quiet;' 'quiet' meant 'obedient;' 'obedient' meant 'meek.'

But that was fine in London.

It was perfectly acceptable that a woman be meek.

Expected even.

For here in England, women and men were not on equal standing like they were in Narnia.

Here in England, the whole point of a woman's life was to look pretty, be interested only in gossip, never speak out of turn, find herself a husband who she would devote everything to, have children, and teach her daughters to be just like their mother.

And Susan wasn't used to that notion.

She had lived a whole lifetime as a Queen, and she would not bow down to these silly little customs of a place that was once her home, but was now a foreign land.

She had survived well enough the first year.

Sure, the other girls thought she was strange, but that was fine, because _she_ thought the _other_ girls were strange too.

She had always known they would go back. Back home. Back to Narnia.

Sure, Aslan's action of sending her and her siblings back through the wardrobe and into their old lives had hurt and confused her more than she could express, but she trusted the Lion.

She knew He knew how much she and her sister and brothers loved Narnia, and she knew He knew how much the four of them were hurting from being separated from Her.

She had known they would go back. She didn't know when, or how, but she had known they would.

And they had! They had been called back home a mere year later!

An English year at least.

She was so glad to be back – so glad that words could not even describe…but once she realised that they had not returned to _their_ time… that their once shining, glimmering, _beautiful_ castle was now in ruins…that everyone they had known was gone, and had been for a long, long time… her heart had nearly broken.

And then, once the Telmarines had been defeated and Prince Caspian crowned King, and she and Peter were told by the Great Lion himself that they were never to return to their home, to their beloved Narnia…her heart _had_ broken.

The hope that had held her together and helped her to remain Queen Susan the Gentle over the past year spent in England wasn't there to sustain her this time.

Aslan had said they wouldn't return, and so she knew they wouldn't. Aslan's word was more reliable than the fact that the sun would rise tomorrow.

So what was the point of longing for something she knew she would not get?

And so, when the people of England mistook her gentle nature for meekness, she did not correct them.

She emersed herself in their culture until she was no longer considered strange by her peers, and tried not to think of the fact that Narnian dances were so much more fun and intricate than the English dances.

She stopped talking to her siblings about the land they had once ruled; the land they had twice saved. It was less painful to simply forget.

When she returned from America to find Edmund and Lucy nearly bursting out of their skins with giddiness for having been back _there _again, she became even more closed to the matter.

And after a while, she really did start to forget.

When boys came to her door and asked her to dances, she never said no – even when she knew the boys were only charming on the surface. Peter asked her once if she didn't think she was worth more than that, and reminded her of Rabadash. Susan blinked in confusion, too far gone by that stage to remember the name, and told Peter that she couldn't possibly turn them away – it would be cruel.

She purposely dulled her once startling wits to the point that she actually enjoyed the inane conversations of those around her.

It wasn't until years later, when she was standing next to the fresh graves of her siblings and parents, listening to the empty condolences spoken by those who called themselves her friends, that he thought she heard the distant roar of a lion.

The sound inspired her, and she tried to say something – something that would suit her family and all they had individually been.

Something loving and devoted for her parents; something noble and magnificent for Peter; something brave and just for Edmund; something musical and valiant for Lucy…but she found that the words would not come.

Could not come.

She had purposely dulled her wits and her self to the point that she could not even come up with a decent sentence to say over the freshly dug graves of her entire family.

And suddenly, Susan remembered words forgotten long ago; and she wept, for though she could remember neither who had spoken them nor why, she knew that they applied now to her.

"_Get treated like a dumb animal long enough…that's what you become."_

OoO

**AN****: O.o Right… that one was a little more angsty than Peter's was. At least Peter's had a hope filled ending. But, as I'm basing these shots on what happens to the characters in the books – aka; Susan forgets all about Narnia – this one had to be like that.**

**I feel incredibly sorry for her, to be honest. I mean, really – her whole family died, and she didn't go to Aslan's Country with them. Sucks much? Yeah. I think she would have remembered in the end and made it to Aslan's Country eventually, but it would still suck for her.**

**And remember the quote in the first chapter? **_**Courage isn't one of the virtues. Courage is every one of the virtues at its testing point.**_** Susan had courage while she had other things there to support her (for example, actually being in Narnia and/or having the knowledge that she would go back there some day) but once she was back in London with the Lion's word that she wouldn't go back, she had no more posts to lean on and had to stand on her own two feet, and her courage and faith faltered, flapped feebly, and failed. **

**And that's the case with a lot of people here in the 'Real World' too. They go to some conference and get all pumped up and pledge themselves to The Lord and are all convinced that nothing will ever separate them and God again… but when they go back to their own lives with their atheist friends and their frowning parents and they DON'T go to church or join a Christian Youth Group or do anything like that, they DO drift, and they DO forget, and they DO go back to how they were before. Or worse.**

**It is hard to live in this society as a Christian, and you really do need support (such as a church community, Christian friends, etc) around you, otherwise it's just too hard, and you end up like Susan. Completely lost, confused, worse than where you started, and not in Aslan's Country.**

**And with that said, review. :)**

**Love Bundi **


	3. Just

Disclaimer: Pfft

**Disclaimer****: Pfft. Not likely. It all belongs to Jack. **

**AN****: Sorry for the delay folks, I wasn't intending to leave it so long between Susan and Edmund's chapters. Heavens this was difficult to write! Susan's and Peter's just came out so easily, but this one…! Anyway, apologies again for the delay, I hope you enjoy. :)**

**And I know that in the books Edmund and Peter go to a boys school, and Susan and Lucy to a girls, but I like the idea of them all being together. Also, remember – Lucy often rode to war with the boys (That is cannon! Check **_**The Horse and His Boy**_** if you don't believe me), so she knows what to do in a fight.**

**Props to my Great-Grandfather for the term 'disappointed old ladies.' I think it's a very apt description of the few that I've met (I say few. I'm sure there are some very lovely ones out there… I just haven't met them.).**

**Love Bundi**

**OoO**

_**Virtues**_

_**-**_

_**Just**_

**OoO**

It is very hard to be Just in an un-just world.

Even harder when – though _you_ know you're a full grown man who has run a country, won wars, gone on countless campaigns, lived, loved and loathed… everyone else simply sees an eleven year old boy with a good imagination, behavioural problems and no respect for authority.

They were correct in their assumptions…just not in the way they thought they were.

Edmund did have a good imagination, but not in the sense that Narnia had all simply been imagined. No, Edmund had always had a talent for creating the most outrageous, exhilarating, emotive, and riveting tales by using the smallest amount of inspiration…he and Lucy had stayed up long into the night on more than one occasion entertaining each other with their wild stories and imaginings.

Edmund had behavioural issues, but not in the sense that he was unwilling to learn. Edmund was more than willing to learn new things, but the drab English school he attended was not providing anything even remotely stimulating. As such, Edmund was bored. And Edmund's boredom coupled with his imagination led to his teachers labelling him 'difficult' and subject to 'behavioural issues'.

And no, Edmund didn't have any respect for authority. Not when 'authority' consisted of corrupt policemen who were only in the Force to better get away with their own illicit activities and so that they could get cash bonuses from anyone who happened to have enough money to avoid arrest.

Not when 'authority' consisted of disappointed old ladies who called themselves Nuns and followers of God, yet who relished the opportunity to punish and humiliate children as young as four for the slightest offence.

Not when 'authority' meant 'anyone older than you,' and yet Edmund had been a King to those up to and over thirteen times his age.

Authority was, in Edmund's opinion, something that needed to be earned and worked at. And it didn't seem to Edmund that many of these English figures of 'authority' had rightly earned anything, much less authority.

What's more, Edmund was used to being treated with respect – by both people who were and were not his subjects.

Rulers of countries such as Archenland had held Edmund and his royal siblings in high esteem; had considered them equals and treated them as such.

Rulers of more hostile countries such as Calormen had underestimated the young quartet of Kings and Queens only once before they were set straight, and after that, the 'Barbarian Monarchs' were treated – to their faces – with the utmost respect and – not to their faces – with caution and wariness.

It was therefore understandable that Edmund found it difficult to go from being treated with absolute and utter respect, to being treated like some average English school boy.

The first nun he had encountered after his return had gotten rather a shock when she yelled at Edmund for not paying attention, and demanded that he answer a maths question that would have boggled the minds of Edmund's fellow students. Edmund, however, barely even glanced at the problem before giving the correct answer and returning his gaze back to the window, clearly bored with the whole scenario.

The nun was stunned, and tried multiple times through the lesson to catch Edmund unawares with a difficult question. He answered all of them correctly, however, and that particular nun left him alone after that.

Not the rest of his teachers though. The other nuns seemed offended by Edmund's knowledge, and gladly used any excuse available to publicly ridicule him. Edmund's quick (and correct) responses were regarded as 'back chat,' and for that, he was hauled up the front and lectured before the rest of his class.

If a nun caught him staring out the window at the grassy, sunlit grounds, he wasn't paying attention, and for that he was eligible to receive the strap. Even when his workbook surpassed those of his classmates', and he was able to recite back to the nun what it was she had been saying whilst he had been 'not paying attention,' he was told to stop being disrespectful, and his punishment was extended to include a detention and more lectures.

Over the course of one day, Edmund tried to act in the manner that everyone expected him to. He focussed on his books instead of the window; apologised if he was told he wasn't paying attention instead of reciting half the lesson back to the teacher; and tried to look at the questions thrown his way as opposed to answering them with obvious ease.

This was not a particularly successful tactic – resulting only in longer punishments and more furious teachers, and he gave it up by lunch time.

All in all, it was incredibly unjust. And for the Just King, this was even more difficult to bear than it otherwise would have been.

He couldn't even find solace with his peers.

Due to his behaviour before Aslan entered his life, there were not many in his year level who wanted anything to do with Edmund. None of the girls would talk to him, and many of the boys cringed as he passed them, as though expecting Edmund to hurl something – in the verbal _or_ physical sense – at them.

There was one boy who, every time he saw Edmund, would squeak in fright and take off in the opposite direction as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. Edmund couldn't remember exactly what he had done to this boy before Narnia to warrant such a reaction, but there were many pre-Narnia memories that Edmund had lost.

Then there were the people who did greet Edmund as he stepped through the gates on the first day of the new school term. These were the people who he had been 'friends' with before Narnia – back while he had still been a little beast of a child. These were the people who had helped turn him into that beast of a child, what with their bullying and their snide comments. These people too, boys cringed at, girls turned away from, and the chubby boy ran from. It didn't take much for Edmund to realise that he did not want to associate himself with these boys.

The boys - Myles, Beckett, Lawrence, Collin, James, and Andrew – did not appreciate Edmund's new attitude, and it wasn't long before he was added to their 'List of People to Bully.'

True, their attempts at bullying Edmund didn't amount to much. Edmund had dealt with far worse things than six pre-adolescent boys with a mind for revenge.

Myles and Lawrence cornered him after English one lunchtime. It wasn't really a fair fight. Edmund, with all his training and years spent as a warrior, came out of it with barely a scratch on him. Of course, the three of them were then given the strap for fighting.

The next confrontation was a week later (Myles and Lawrence had needed recovery time), and again, it was after English in the lunch yard. This time, all six boys cornered Edmund. Safety in numbers, and all that.

Again though, it wasn't much of a fair fight. Peter and Lucy saw what was happening from the other side of the yard, and it only took them a few seconds to reach and enter the fray in defence of their brother. All nine of them received the strap after that, and strongly worded letters were sent home, but the boys left Edmund alone after that.

It was a bit lonely though. The only people Edmund spoke to and enjoyed the company of were his siblings, and none of them were in class with him. Not that he didn't understand the reluctance of his year mates to be friendly with him. He wouldn't want to be friendly with a bully either, no matter how much said bully appeared to have changed.

He knew that he would have to gain their trust, and prove himself worthy of being their friend, just as he had had to prove himself worthy of being the King of Narnia.

A small part of Edmund wished that there was some evil false-Royal with a wand that he could splinter. That had proved his worth in Narnia beyond a shadow of a doubt. At least it had all been over with quickly.

But he knew that no one deserved even a second spent in the company of one such as Jadis – no matter how much they enjoyed strapping the hands of children – and he also suspected that he would have to prove his worth to his peers slowly.

One little act of kindness at a time.

It would be difficult, but he deserved it, and he wasn't going to complain.

That was, after all, justice.

OoO

**AN****: …Ok… that turned out entirely different to how I was planning for it to go. I'm a bit disappointed actually. Edmund is my favourite character, and I fear I haven't done him justice in this chapter. **

**Ah well, at least I got it up for you. :) Next up, Lucy's chapter: Valiant.**

**Let me know what you think,**

**Love Bundi**


	4. Valiant

**AN: Wow, thanks guys. :) I'm really glad you all liked Edmund's chapter, and your reviews made my day. Cheers for that.**

**And sorry for the delay. This was really hard to write. Hope I got it right in the end. Also, I know the generally accepted amount of time the Pevensie kids spent in Narnia is 15 years, but I reckon they would have been there for at least 25, so that's what I've said here.**

**::EDIT:: I've fixed up those errors. :) Let me know if you see any more! **

**Enjoy. :)**

**OoO**

**Virtues**

**-**

**Valiant**

**OoO**

'_What do you fear, My Lady?'_

'…_A cage. To sit behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire.'_

'_You are a Shield Maiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.'_

_- Aragon and Eowyn; Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_

OoO

There were very few things that frightened Lucy Pevensie of the Glistening Eastern Sea, Valiant Queen of Narnia.

She wasn't afraid of the dark – she hadn't been since since seven old.

Blood didn't make her in any way queasy or squeamish – one couldn't very well ride to war if one faints at the sight of blood!

Spiders didn't frighten her – she had lived in a castle for nigh on twenty-five years; one is bound to come across the eight-legged insects frequently in a building as large and open as a castle.

She wasn't scared of mice – how could one be, after one has met the courageous, courteous and chivalrous Talking Mice of Narnia?

She was not scared of heights – Cair Paravel _was_ situated on the edge of a cliff.

She wasn't scared of the Calormine god Tash, for even if the four-armed, half-bird-half-man creature existed (and Lucy didn't think he did) there was no doubt in Lucy's mind that Aslan was the stronger of the two, and what did a child of Aslan have to fear from the supposed god of another race?

There were some things, however, that caused the Valiant Queen to go pale and tremble with fear.

Jadis had been one of those things. Even still, years since the tyrant's death, the thought of the tall, pale, hate-filled woman caused Lucy's hands to clench and a shiver to run up her spine. She knew that anyone who had encountered the Witch and lived to tell the tale felt the same.

Lucy also constantly feared for the lives of her siblings – Peter and Edmund in particular. Susan had been the one who chose to stay at the Cair to look after domestic matters whenever war threatened the fair lands of Narnia, but Lucy – despite Father Christmas' warnings that wars were ugly affairs – almost always accompanied her brothers and Narnia's army on their campaigns. Thus, the three of them – Lucy, Edmund and Peter – were well acquainted with, but by no means used to, the notion of losing each other. And that notion terrified the youngest Queen.

Aslan also scared Lucy, but her trust in the Great Lion overcame any fear she had for Him. That fear was borne out of respect – she knew that, if He willed it, Aslan was capable of ending someone's life, or re-starting it. He was capable of breathing life into a rock, or of crushing the same rock with nothing but His breath. He was the one who had created all of Narnia, and He was the one who had defied death to the last.

That level of sheer power was frightening.

All of these fears were perfectly acceptable for the Valiant Queen of Narnia to harbour. Any sane being would feel the same as she. They were fears borne of self-preservation, love and respect. And none of these fears made Lucy any less valiant or any less brave, for courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the strength to overcome said fear and continue on with the task at hand.

There was one thing, though, that Lucy feared seemingly without reasonable explanation.

She could not stand the feeling of being trapped.

She didn't mind small spaces, so long as she knew there was a way out. She would gladly climb down a well to rescue a baby badger, for she knew that she would be pulled right back out of there as soon as the wailing cub was tucked securely under her arm. And she would eagerly go exploring any caves or tunnels that were uncovered, for she knew that she could always go back out the same way she came in.

In fact, it was she who had found each of the secret tunnels that led from hers and her siblings separate rooms out and down to the woodland behind the castle. She was also the one who found the tunnel that led from the Throne Room to – much to Peter and Edmund's delight – the Kitchens.

But she always insisted that, whatever room she was in, a door or window be left open or, at the very least, unlocked.

She hated the feeling of being trapped so much that she had lost multiple games of chess to Edmund, simply because he would corner her, and she would recklessly sacrifice one of her pieces – pawn, knight, Queen, anything – to get her out from her trapped position.

That was exactly the reason she left all the battle planning up to Peter, Edmund and Oreius.

She had nearly broken Peter's nose, once, in a fit of trapped-induced panic. They had been down at the shore of the Eastern Sea, and she had thrown a clump of wet seaweed at her Magnificent oldest sibling. In retaliation, he wrapped his arms around her torso and began to cart her into the waves, fully intending to get her wet from head to foot.

She had squealed and laughed in protest at first, wriggling to try and break free. But when her attempts to escape failed and she realised just how helpless she was, she had panicked and, finding vague purchase on the sand beneath her feet, thrown her body violently backwards, the back of her head colliding rather painfully with Peter's nose.

He had dropped her immediately, howling in pain, and she had apologised profusely, and they had both gotten soaked because neither of them saw the wave coming up behind them, and Edmund had fallen over laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Of course, Lucy knew that Peter would never hurt her, and it didn't matter if she was helplessly trapped in his arms, because all he ever did was look out for her health and safely, but she had forgotten all that in the moment she realised she was trapped, and her body had reacted accordingly.

So therefore, it was possibly one of the worst moments of her life when she and her three siblings fell back out of the wardrobe, into Spare Oom, and back into their old lives.

There were many things about Life-Before-Narnia that Lucy did not remember. England was too dull, and Narnia too bright for the English memories to remain well preserved. But one thing she _did_ remember was the structure. The routine. The _rules._

While in Narnia, the four Pevensies (Lucy and Edmund especially) had revelled in the fact that – as long as what they did hurt no-one – they could pretty much do whatever they wanted. Sure, there were certain duties they had to attend to as the monarchs of the kingdom, and on several occasions they had to partake in activities that they wished with all their being they could avoid (meeting with or visiting the Calormines for example), but when they had free time…

If Lucy wanted to don boy's clothes and go and climb trees with the Dryads all afternoon, she could. If she wanted to get all dressed up for no apparent reason, she could. If she wanted to dance all night with the Fauns, she could.

Of course, she, Edmund, Peter and Susan were schooled in Narnia – after all, Kings and Queens or not, they were still children, and they had a fair bit to learn about the world they now ruled. But these lessons were flexible – if it was a beautiful, sunny day outside, their teachers would hardly force them to stay in the stuffiness of indoors.

In the freshness of spring and the warmth of summer, they would often have their lessons conducted out on the rolling lawn in front of the castle, munching on a spontaneously provided picnic and learning about Narnian history, studying intricate Narnian maps and committing them to memory, or reciting the range of subtle differences between fauns born in the North, and fauns born in the East.

In the cold of winter or the crispness of autumn, they would have practical lessons on warfare and battle planning and strategy, using the surrounding snow or grass and fallen leaves as weapons.

England was not like that, Lucy remembered.

No; in England, Lucy would be expected to sit to attention for four 72 minute long lessons, with only a short lunch and an even shorter recess to break the monotony.

Classes conducted outside were out of the picture too.

The strict nuns at St Finbar's would never even consider the notion of varying their lessons in the slightest, much less to the degree that would be required if they were to move the lesson to the green and eat a picnic whilst learning.

And she wouldn't even be free to do as she pleased once school was finished.

In England, it was frowned just heavily upon for girls to go about garbed as boys as it was for boys to go about garbed as girls. And besides – boy's English outfits were supremely uncomfortable, unlike Narnian clothes.

There were strict rules to be adhered to for both genders. Boys were to learn how to be gentlemen. Girls were to learn how to be ladies.

And what did that translate to? Sitting inside all day and cooking, or cleaning, or _sewing_.

It was alright while they were in the country at the Professor's house. There, at least, there was some semblance of freedom. But the war would be over soon, and they would have to return to Finchley, and their small little house with their tiny little garden and their lumpy beds and their scratchy sheets and their starched clothes and all the _rules_ that went with being a child in England.

It was when she thought of this that Lucy started to panic. She would wake every few nights in the middle of the night, panting hard in the aftermath of a nightmare which featured bars and walls and locked doors and leering faces.

Though she knew her siblings would help her out - give her comfort - she wouldn't wake them. They were all having trouble dealing with their departure - why give them extra stress? No; she would go to the only other place in that cold, barren country that could give her any comfort. Sitting amongst the fur coats of The Wardrobe, she would be as close as she could get to home, she would be warm, and she could finally calm her breathing down enough that she could be back in her bed before dawn, and no one would be any the wiser.

Then one night, as she was sitting in the darkness, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing, focussing on trying to remember the exact patterns the light made on His fur when the sun shone on His mane, she heard the creak of a door, and the muffled sound of slippered feet.

She stilled, years of training telling her to stay still and silent so as to avoid detection for as long as possible until she knew what was approaching. A moment later, the door of The Wardrobe creaked as Narnia's child-again Just King opened it slowly, attempting futilely to be quiet, his face illuminated by the candle he carried.

"Ed!" Lucy cried, as startled as anyone would be to see their older brother sneaking into a wardrobe in the middle of the night.

The trouble with candles is that they don't cast their light over too far a distance, and anything beyond the sphere of the golden glow is even harder to see than usual, so when Lucy's voice came seemingly out of nowhere, Edmund started rather violently and nearly dropped his candle.

It only took him a moment to recover, and in a second he was peering into the depths of The Wardrobe, straining to see Lucy. "Lu?" he asked, still rather surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you that," the younger one replied, "but you're letting all the cold air in. Put that candle down and come in where it's warm."

Edmund did as he was bid, and set the candle down outside the doors of The Wardrobe, leaving it lit so that he could later escort Lucy to her room and then find his way back to his own, and clambered in to join Lucy, sliding down the back wall (which he wished wasn't there) until he was sitting next to her.

"So," Lucy said, as soon as her brother was settled, "what brings you to this fine Wardrobe at such an odd hour of the night?"

Edmund sighed. "I couldn't sleep," he offered. "I miss Narnia, and this is the closest I can get to being back there."

Lucy nodded in understanding, hugging her knees to her chest. Edmund nudged her softly with his shoulder. "So what about you?" he asked. "I'm not the only one sitting in a wardrobe in the middle of the night, you know."

Lucy sighed, all her pent up emotions expressed in the big heave of air. "I just… Well, the same as you, really. But also…"

Edmund waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he nudged her again gently. "But also…?"

Lucy paused for a second, trying to work out how to word what she was feeling so that she didn't sound like the little girl she appeared to be. "It's just… I feel so… so _wrong_ here. I'm not English anymore; I'm Narnian, and… well, I know that, 'When in Calormen, do as the Calormens do,' and all that, but I don't _like _behaving like a Calormen. They have all these weird laws, and strange customs and the _food_ is just… can you even call that food? And the men are supposedly so much more _intelligent_ and _capable_ than the women are and women are looked at as only good for breeding, and house keeping, and _gossip_. And I don't like gossip. And am I making _any_ sense here, Edmund, or is it all coming out as garbled as I feel?"

Edmund smiled slightly. "No, Lu, you're making perfect sense. England has all these customs and such that were so normal before Narnia, but now they all seem so strange and petty. And the food is pretty dreadful."

"And all the rules and the structure and the timetables…" Lucy whispered. "I just feel so…trapped."

Edmund - aware of Lucy's irrational fear - smiled softly at her and put a comforting arm over her shoulder. "So that's what this is about, is it?"

Lucy nodded, snuggling further into her brother's embrace. "And I know I'm meant to be all brave and everything - I mean, I _am _supposed to be the Valiant one," she said, looking at the floor of The Wardrobe, "but… I just _know_ that once we go back to Finchley, I won't be able to… I won't be _free_ anymore! And that's terrifying! It's alright here - the Professor understands us, and here in the country I can almost pretend we're back home (it _does_ take a fair bit of imagination, but still). I fell like, as long as I'm in the country, I'll be fine. But as soon as I leave - go into the town, or back to Finchley or wherever, it'll all overwhelm me, and I wont be able to take it. I mean - in Finchley… we're just children. Its almost like when the Calormen ambassador came to visit when we were first coronated and thought that he could take over the castle just cause we were so young, only its so much _worse._"

Edmund chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, because here we can't threaten war against the offending nation."

Lucy chuckled wetly. "And Oreius isn't here to hold anyone upside down by their ankles until they apologise and beg forgiveness."

Edmund laughed outright at the memory, then sobered. "But Lucy… it's ok to be afraid, you know. We're all scared. England and everything that goes with it is so far removed from anything we've come to know and love. We're walking through and towards the unknown here, and that's _scary. _Perhaps we should start off small - head into the little township not far from here? Get used to the idea of built up towns again."

Lucy was already shaking her head, and Edmund gave her a slight squeeze. "Come on. I'll be right there with you. And, if it's any consolation… I think I'll be scared too, so I could hardly look down on you if you are."

"But," Lucy protested, her voice small, "I'm meant to be brave. Valiant."

Edmund rolled his eyes fondly in the darkness. "Don't be daft, Lu. You know that there's no such thing as bravery if there's no fear. 'Courage without fear isn't courage at all,' and all that. What's that quote? Ah - 'Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow.'* You don't think we're all struggling to live up to our titles? Heck - I've been coming here every second night just to remind myself that it wasn't all a dream, and that I need to keep going; keep trying to be the Just one."

Lucy looked up at Edmund in surprise. "You've been coming here?"

"Yes. It helps, I think. Perhaps this Wardrobe has some residue Narnian air in it or something, because I always feel more… more hopeful that I can do this. That I can keep being Just, even in this corrupt world."

Lucy paused, thinking. It came as a surprisingly large comfort that her Big Brother also required the meagre support that The Wardrobe offered; that she really wasn't alone in this.

"And, you know what?" Edmund continued. "I think that, if you can do this Lu, you'll be the bravest one of all of us. Peter, Susan and I - we aren't scared of being trapped, like you are. So this is, in a way, easier for us than for you. And just think - how much braver you'll be as a whole when you overcome this. That's valiant for you."

Lucy smiled, more confident now than she had been in days. Clearly she was here in England for a reason - Aslan wouldn't have sent her back for nothing. Perhaps that reason was that she needed to become braver. Her valour needed to be tried, tested and thus, strengthened.

Lucy looked up at Edmund, a playful smile on her face. "What's say we go into town tomorrow?"

OoO

_Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. _

Ambrose Redmoon

OoO

**AN:**** Bit of a rush job at the end there, but I just want to get it out. Again, I'm disappointed with how this one turned out. Please let me know what you thought though. **

**And that's it! I've finished! My first ever COMPLETED multi-chapter story is DONE! -Dances- Thanks for waiting for it. :) **

**Love Bundi**

*** Quote by Dan Rather**


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